Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 42549 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 213(@200wpm)___ 170(@250wpm)___ 142(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 42549 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 213(@200wpm)___ 170(@250wpm)___ 142(@300wpm)
Boonie shook his head, all leashed tension and predatory menace.
“I’m not here to talk to you about money. But you bring up a good point.”
“What’s that?” I asked. The room really felt too small. I was used to my clients lying down on the table—I liked it that way. I was in control, powerful. Boonie was way too tall, and he was definitely using up more than his fair share of the oxygen in here.
“I’d already heard you left him.”
“Right . . .” I replied, confused.
“Why?”
“Because he’s an asshole and I’m done eating his shit.”
“What happened to taking care of him?” he asked, mocking me. “I thought that was your job?”
Crap. He wasn’t playing fair.
“I was just a kid,” I said slowly. “I thought he needed me, that he loved me. Maybe he did, in his own way, but that was a long time ago. Now all he does is drink and gamble. At this rate he’ll be dead in a few years anyway, because he ignores his doctors. I guess I woke up one morning and realized I’d married my dad. Sooner or later we all have to grow up.”
He studied me, those dark eyes of his impossible to read as ever.
“I had to hear about it in a bar,” he said finally, his voice tight.
“What?”
“I learned you left your husband” —he spat, turning the word into a curse— “in a bar. Jake Preston and Chad Gunn were talking about how much they wanted to tap your ass now that it was on the market again.”
I swallowed, feeling a little sick to my stomach. Callup never changed, apparently. Good thing I lived in Coeur d’Alene now.
“That’s . . . flattering,’’ I managed to say. “But I’m not quite sure what that has to do with you being here.”
Boonie gave me a tight smile that never quite reached his eyes.
“Now you’re just being difficult,” he said, his voice low and rough. A spark of tension raced down my spine, settling low between my legs. Thank God my arms were crossed, because I was pretty sure my nipples had gotten hard. So what if I wanted Boonie? That wasn’t a big deal—so did every other woman who met him.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
No, but you’ve got a fantasy, my traitorous brain whispered. Right, because that’d turned out so well last time.
“So that’s really how you’re gonna play it? Fine. Tell me about the massage,’’ he said abruptly. I blinked, caught off guard.
“Well, treatment depends on what kind of issues you’re having. We can do everything from deep tissue to simple relaxation.” I swallowed, frowning. “Boonie, I don’t think this is a good idea. If Farell doesn’t owe you money then you shouldn’t be in here.”
“Why not?” he taunted. “Do you have a problem touching me? If that’s the case, lay it out for me. How is rubbing your hands all over my body a problem for you? ’Cause it sure as fuck isn’t one for me.”
Hearing those words should really piss me off, because this wasn’t some cheap massage parlor where women offered men happy endings. Unfortunately, hearing him talk like that was a turn on, which seemed deeply unfair.
He was the last man I should be attracted to.
I’d just gotten out of one shitty relationship, and while I might not see Boonie very often, I knew far too much about him. He was Callup, born and bred, and we kept track of our own whether they liked it or not. He’d given the ladies down at the Breakfast Table more than his fair share of gossip since he’d come home last year.
According to them, the man was hornier than an alley cat.
Shit. I couldn’t think about that right now.
“I’m a professional, Boonie,” I told him firmly. “I’ll step outside and let you get ready. Undress to your comfort level and lie face down under the sheet. I’ll be back in just a couple of minutes.”
I stepped out of the room and shut the door, leaning back against it. Could I do this? I wasn’t sure. If I’d had any idea he’d actually expected me to touch him I wouldn’t have let him back into the room at all.
Liar.
Why hadn’t he gotten fat? Or started losing his hair? Granted, twenty-three was young to start balding but that hadn’t prevented it from happening to Farell. God, I wished I could go back in time. Maybe if I’d walked out of the hospital without talking to Renee that night, things would be different right now.
Except they wouldn’t. Even if I’d been free, Boonie hadn’t been. And now the Bastards held him tighter than any woman ever could.
“You okay?” Kelly asked, peering through the small pass-through window between the rooms and the reception area.
Say you can’t do it. Just tell her you’re not feeling good, you’re going to throw up, anything to get out of walking back into that room.